


moonshine

by jeannedarc



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, fluffy garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:56:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9293285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/pseuds/jeannedarc
Summary: lying is bad for you, han sanghyuk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written in like thirty minutes because i am garbage. surprise? prompt found somewhere on @shittyaus via tumblr ("you get admitted to the hospital and i might have lied and said we're married so i could get into the room with you", just to paraphrase).

Hospitals are about Sanghyuk’s least favourite place in the entire fucking world, but here he is, making his way down a long hall, bright with fluorescence, nose filled with the smells of chemical cleanliness and impending death. In his hands are two cups of coffee, one extremely sweet and nearly white with flavoured cream -- curse this hellhole of a hospital, he thinks, fingers clenching slightly around the paper sleeves he’s fitted around the cups; they don’t have the sweet cream stuff -- and one just slightly shy of plain and black, only a half-spoon of sugar inside. 

He doesn’t remember the room number, but he doesn’t really need to -- the sound of incessant chatter, reassuring as it is, floats into his ears from a room a few doors down. He steps inside; the lights are off and Hakyeon is on the phone, probably talking to his mom judging by his tone, by the softness of his eyes when he glances up and smiles his universally knowledgeable smile in Sanghyuk’s direction. His eyes are a little puffy -- has he been crying? Sanghyuk ponders this as he takes a seat at the end of Hakyeon’s hospital bed.

“Mama, I need to go,” Hakyeon’s saying, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear so that he can take the coffee Sanghyuk offers him; apparently it’s the wrong one because he takes a sip and grimaces, and Sanghyuk realises that whatever’s in his hand is bitter as hell and he had been dangerously close to drinking it. “Yes, mom, I know, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll call you again when the doctors say I can leave. I love you, mom.” Their cups switched, Hakyeon takes a quick sip of his coffee and smiles around the slot in the top, hanging up the phone as he moves. “Thank you, Hyukkie.”

“You’re welcome.” Sanghyuk must have that look of worry on his face, because Hakyeon reaches out with his now phoneless hand, strokes over the shapes of Sanghyuk’s knuckles. “What did the doctor say while I was gone?”

“Exhaustion,” and Hakyeon’s expression is one of exasperation, probably with himself, “nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll probably get to leave in a couple hours.” He takes another gulp of coffee, apparently preferring not to talk about what’s got him so damn tired.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” Sanghyuk points out, poised to drink his own sugar-laden beverage. “You haven’t been letting me take care of you.”

“I’m fine.” Hakyeon, as stubborn as he is verbose (normally, anyhow), slides his fingers between Sanghyuk’s and holds on tight, brow furrowing. “Are you alright? I wasn’t all the way conscious when they finally brought me back here, but I think there was some yelling…”

Sanghyuk blinks, tries to figure out exactly to what Hakyeon is referring -- the part where the doctors had tried to tell him to fuck off and stand out in the waiting room like everyone else, or…

Oh.

“I, uh,” Sanghyuk stumbles over his words, due more in part to the inadvertent smile spreading across his mouth than any awkwardness by what had happened on Hakyeon’s admittance, “I told them I was your husband.”

Hakyeon, for his part, chokes on his coffee, nearly drops it in an effort to fan the tears from his eyes immediately after. “You what?”

“Yeah, they said I wasn’t family so I couldn’t get in.” Sanghyuk hums, taking the offending cup from Hakyeon and cradling it carefully for a moment before setting it down on the table beside the bed. “So I kind of, uh, you know. Lied. A little.”

“That’s not a little lie, Han Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon chastises him, snatching his drink right back. “That is a very, very big lie.”

“I know, but it got me in here, didn’t it?”

They sit in an almost stony silence for a long few minutes, alternating sips of their coffee and exchanging looks -- Hakyeon’s of disapproval, Sanghyuk’s of unaccountable playfulness. Then Hakyeon takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes. “Thank you for not leaving me alone. You’re grounded later for lying.”

Another pause, and then Sanghyuk perks up, draws his legs onto the bed to sit cross-legged, cup tucked in the hole there. “Okay. Grounded. We’re both adult men with vaguely adult careers and stuff, but sure, I’m grounded.” His voice quakes with the bare hints of laughter, and Hakyeon’s eyes twinkle with the same. “It doesn’t sound bad, does it? Me and you being married.”

For the third time tonight, Hakyeon nearly dies, this time due to nothing other than the oxygen in the atmosphere. But when his coughing fit is over, he almost seems contemplative.

“No,” he supposes aloud, drumming his fingertips along the seam of his paper cup, “no, it doesn’t.”


End file.
